A Curious Twist of Fate

I woke up again. The sun had changed position, so it was no longer blindingly bright; instead a nice flow of light came in through the windows.
My ghost was sitting at my desk, writing something into my diary. I forgave this – she was me after all.

I sat up and looked over at my clock. 15.00. I winced. It had been a very long time since I had slept until so late.
Sitting up, I called out to my ghost,
“Lisa? What are you doing? How long have you been sitting there?”

She turned towards my bed. Then frowned and looked around.
“Are you still in bed or are you up now? Gosh it’s hard following a voice!”

I got out of my bed, trying to make as little noise as possible. I crept up behind her and put my hands over her eyes.
“Boo.”
She screamed. I laughed loudly as she hyperventilated slightly. She swivelled around on my chair to face me, glaring icily.
“Now that was mean! But at least I can see you now!”
She smiled and swivelled back to my diary. I looked over her shoulder to see what she had written.

Well, last night was a bit of a bad experience. Which makes sense seeing as I died for goodness sake. When I was walking down that alley, I was a whole person. But when that man found me…I knew it was too late for me already. When his hands clasped around my throat and I tried to shove him off, somehow I was ready for the fact that I wasn’t going to make it. But what made it worse was that when he took out the knife and stabbed me, I separated from the rest of myself. That other part of me is still alive. I wish I could’ve seen what she had done to get him off, but I hope it wasn’t anything too bad. Even a dreadful man like that deserves a second chance.
The other part of me doesn’t seem to remember the whole ordeal. She only seems to remember what had happened after I died. And that is something I do not know.
It scares me to know that even I don’t know what I have done, what I am thinking. But I suppose it could be worse.
When I left that man wrestling thin air, I was scared. Because I thought that he may have been the one following me. Or someone worse…someone coming to get me for good. But it wasn’t. It was the other part of me. I was thankful for that. But then I was scared by the knowledge that if she hadn’t followed me, I would never have known that I was partially still alive.
Nothing could have prepared me for seeing myself face-to-face in the middle of the street. It was something you never expect to happen to you. When someone else tells you their stories of outer-body experiences, you tend to think that they are exaggerating slightly. But now I know that that is not always the case.
Either all of what has happened so far is true, or that man injected me with some type of hallucinating drug which is making me think that I’m a ghost, and see myself as another being.
But somehow I doubt that. I cannot find any sort of puncture on either myself or my live self, only that of the knife in her side. I don’t think she has found it yet. But I’m afraid that when she does it will bring back some awful memories and she will not want to be with me anymore.
If she does want to leave me, she will be able to run whenever I’m close, but I will never be able to find and see her.
I am scared.
Lisa. x

I looked at her with a slight interest. Most of my fears must have been killed. Otherwise the girl would never have had so much fear about…everything.
I took another pen from my desk and wrote something underneath. As I had noticed that her handwriting was the same as my usual, I changed it slightly and wrote with a thick pen.

Don’t be scared. I won’t leave you.
Ever.
Lisa. x

She looked up at me. I smiled at her. I could start to tell little differences between us that others probably wouldn’t notice. She was a lot quieter and shyer than me, filled with much insecurity. Whereas I had lost most of my fear. I was much more ready for fun and laughter.

I put the pen down then remembered something that she wrote.
I looked down and lifted up the side of my top.

There was a deep gash. Red and black. Blood was staining the skin around it. It looked like a canyon in the middle of my side. I was surprised how deep it was yet I was still alive.

I searched my washing basket for the shirt that I had been wearing the day before.
My ghost stood up and glided towards my waste paper bin. She picked up a torn piece of cloth. Red cloth. I recognised it as a shirt, but I didn’t recognise which one it was.

My heart stopped for a long second when I saw which shirt it was. The nice expensive white one that I had been wearing yesterday.

I didn’t understand how it could have been so blood stained. I knew that the gash had been deep, but it still couldn’t have wrecked my shirt so much.
My ghost looked down sadly, ashamed. She pointed towards my torso without looking up.

I lifted my top. There were many trails of cuts up my body, all of them rather too deep to be called ‘accidental’ by. I slipped my top over my head. There were many more of these trails right up to my neck.

I stood in front of my mirror, examining the injuries, when I saw what she was so upset about. Where my heart was, a large open wound in a crescent shape.

That was when I remembered.